His First Snow Angel
by Bells of Tomorrow
Summary: Honestly, I haven’t been this happy since Christmas, when I was seven years old and my father showed me how to make a snow angel. Actually, he was passed out drunk in the yard, but I did take his arms and his legs and move them back and forth.


_**A/N:**__So this idea came to me the other night after re-watching the episode "My Clean Break," from Season 3. Dr. Cox says something I've often thought about but never really formed a story for before. This time when he said it, the plot just hit me right in the face, and seeing as how Christmas is right around the corner, I thought I'd roll with it and share this little one-shot with you all. Enjoy._

_**Warning**__: Rated T for domestic violence._

**His First Snow Angel**

"_Honestly, I haven't been this happy since Christmas, when I was seven years old and my father showed me how to make a snow angel. Actually, he was passed out drunk in the yard, but I did take his arms and his legs and move them back and forth, and the paramedics said it was one of the finest snow angels they'd ever seen."_

_-Dr. Perry Cox-_

Perry doesn't understand the famous Christmas carol, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas." He doesn't understand why the singer sounds so desperate for one. Once winter hits, snow is everywhere, at least in Pittsburg it is. But when you're seven years old, you're not really thinking things like, "Maybe the singer lived somewhere else." It doesn't even pop into your head.

Not that little Perry is ignorant of an outside world. In fact, for a seven year old boy, he's very, very aware of one. He craves it on a daily basis; a place anywhere other than his home. Because _his_ home doesn't bring that sweet, warm feeling they tell you about in the movies. It is a trap. A dark and dreary place where no one in their right mind would ever voluntarily enter.

"PERCIVAL!"

The curly haired boy shrinks into himself, hoping his already wasted father will miss him sitting by the window sill, staring out into the pure, white powder that spreads a peace throughout him he so rarely feels.

"PERCIVAL COOOX!"

Perry brings his hands to the back of his head, curling himself forward so that his face meets his knees. Not today, please. He was so tired. Couldn't they just pretend everything was alright, just for today? Couldn't his mom be a mom and maybe make him and Paige some hot chocolate? Couldn't his dad manage to put the bottle down for just _two seconds_ and maybe tell him and his sister some cheesy Christmas story? Of course he knew Santa wasn't real, but God, couldn't they just pretend? Just for one day – _please._

"PERCIVAAAAL!"

Guess not.

Very slowly, very cautiously, Perry uncurls himself to turn around at the man who just staggered drunkenly into their living room, bottle in hand. "Y-Yeah?"

"Percival! There's a…there's a glass upstairs!"

The boys' eyebrows come together, confusion laced in his features. Is he in trouble for something he didn't do again? Or is his father just hallucinating? Both options are very plausible. "I…there's a glass upstairs…?"

"Yes! Glass upstairs is broken and I almost cut…almost cut my foot, damn it!"

Perry swallows. Hard. He _is_ in trouble for something he didn't do...again. "I didn't do that, dad. Could it be the bottle you tried throwing at my head last night? It missed and crashed, so it's probably just –"

"WAS THAT _SASS_, BOY!?"

Damn it, why did he do that? It _was_ admittedly true. But why did he say it like that? Sarcasm seemed to be coming to him much more frequently as of late. A defense mechanism, maybe? "I…I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I-I'll go clean up the glass, alright?"

"So you _admit_ it, don't you? _You_ broke the glass. You _wanted_ me to step on the shards and _bleeeed_ to death, didn't you? DID – N'T – YOU!?"

"N-No. No, I didn't do it. I was just offering because –"

"THAT'S IT! YOU'RE B-BEING PUNISHED!"

Perry watches in familiar horror as his father breaks the already empty bottle against the wall, scattering the pieces to the floor. The old man sneers, alcohol stained teeth curled upwards in a vile grin as he twirls the bottle between disgusting, grimy fingers. "NOW C'MERE!"

An all too familiar panic rises from Perry's stomach to his throat. He swallows for the fifth time in two minutes before dashing to the nearest escape; the front door.

The snow is ice cold and up to his knees, and he's not dressed for the weather in the slightest, but he can hear the crunching of snow from his father's heavy footsteps behind him and continues to run.

But then it happens. Music to his ears. The sound of his father falling.

He turns around slowly, not quite able to trust that, for now, he really is safe. It's rare when the alcohol gets too much for his father _before_ the beating, but when it does, it is a more than welcomed sight to behold.

The curly haired boy makes his way for the house, but stops when he notices the peculiar position in which his father has fallen in.

The drunkard was lying on his back, arms and legs sprawled out uselessly. A sudden idea strikes Perry, and while the logical part of him is screaming, "Run, run! Back inside the house before he wakes up!" The scared and sick-and-tired-of-being-abused part of him, the _seven year old_ part of him, was chuckling at the thought, begging him to go ahead and do it.

So he did.

Slowly, Perry steps closer to the man passed out in the yard. Getting into a more comfortable position that will still allow him to make a quick dash for the house if necessary, the young red head takes hold of his father's arms, splaying them back and forth in the snow. Satisfied with the wings he created, he moves down to the legs, beginning to splay them back and forth as well.

As he goes about his work, a joyous, overwhelming feeling spreads through him. It is something new and something he has never in his life experienced: _Control._ Right then, at that moment, _he's_ in control over his father. Not the other way around. It's empowering, and he doesn't want to give it up.

And maybe, just maybe, he's having fun pretending that his dad is voluntarily helping him out with his snow angel, too. The way normal fathers play with their sons.

But he chooses to focus more on this new feeling that puts him in control, because the other way just makes him feel more vulnerable and more pathetic than he feels on a daily basis.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! He's going to get hypothermia! Perry, you brat! You useless brat!"

His mother's hysterical screams shock him out of his reverie, and suddenly he realizes that he's shivering. And so is his unconscious father.

Perry squirms. He hadn't meant to cause any real damage. Sure, he'd day dream about punching his father in the face quite often, but this scared him – the sounds of sirens and the ambulance pulling up to his driveway – it scared him, and he wanted to run.

The young boy shrinks back into himself as the paramedics come over with the stretcher, hoisting his father onto it with a couple of small grunts.

Just as Perry's getting ready to dash back inside, a nearby paramedic catches sight of his work. He stares at the image of the snow angel before his gaze finds his way to the seven year old boy.

Perry freezes. He's going to get in trouble. _A lot _of trouble. They'll know it was him and report him for not telling anyone about the danger his dad was in, even if he honestly hadn't known it until his mother's hysterical screaming. He's going to get in trouble. He's going to get yelled at. He's going to get punished and he's going to get –

But suddenly the paramedic is smiling; small and sad, but it is undoubtedly a smile. Perry looks up at him, confused but curious.

"Why," the older man starts softly, "That is the finest snow angel I have ever seen."

He reaches over to ruffle the young boy's curly hair, a gesture Perry has never received before.

As the paramedic makes his way back towards the ambulance, little Perry glows. It's the happiest he's felt in a very long time.

_**A/N:**_ _I know, I know. Not the happiest of Christmas stories, but it demanded to be written. I am, however, working on a much happier Christmas story that I will begin posting on December 14__th__, so keep an eye out. ;) Anyway, guys, I hope you enjoyed this one, even if it was more on the bittersweet side. Until next time!_


End file.
